


What’s Dean Winchester Made Of?

by lydiathebanshee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiathebanshee/pseuds/lydiathebanshee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam and Dean returned to Bobby’s house without Jo OR Ellen, Bobby sat down and was silent, which was almost worse than him saying something about them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What’s Dean Winchester Made Of?

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me after reading a fic where Dean got cancer and died yay happiness.
> 
> Set right after they all attempt to kill Lucifer with the colt…Season 5 Episode 10.

When Sam and Dean returned to Bobby’s house without Jo OR Ellen, Bobby was sitting in his chair and was silent, which was almost worse than him saying something about them.

"I think we should have a funeral," Sam said. 

Dean scoffed, "That’s a bad idea. We don’t have anything to burn." 

"Don’t we?" Bobby spoke for the first time since they’d returned. He raised the picture of all of them silently.

Dean sighed and mumbled, "Let me call Cas first," while grabbing the picture out of Bobby’s hand. Dean went to his and Sam’s room, and sat down on his bed.

"Cas," Dean began. "Firstly, thank you for helping us… Even if we didn’t complete the task we were meant to, it meant a lot that I could trust you… In battle," He trailed off.

"We’re going to burn the photo of us, of all of us, of the family." He straightened up, not realising he had doubled over and almost began crying on the picture. How pathetic was he. "Get a grip, Dean…" He mumbled, continuing his speech.

"'Cause that's what we are, we're family. You're one of us now, Cas. Stuck with us. Sorry."

"I guess I just want you here so you can say you made it back, so we can have a proper funeral with the whole family, the whole bunch of us. That’s still living anyways," he let out a small laugh, cutting it off with a cough.

"So Cas, it would be really great if you poofed your ass down here for just a few minutes. Sorry about breaking up your heavenly battle and all, but this is important."

"I’m here, Dean." Castiel said from behind him.

"Cas," he said, emotions leaking into his voice. There was pain, anger, happiness to see his angel had come, but mostly just sadness. That is what Dean Winchester was made up of, sadness.

"When’d you get here?" Cas smiled gently. 

"I’ve been here since you said my name." Dean’s eyebrows did that Sam thing, where they scrunch together and his eyes look all puppy dog and sad.

Since when had he been like Sam? Since always, he realised. He was just better at bottling up his emotions.

As if reading his mind, Castiel spoke, “You need to stop holding in yourself. Let yourself go, Dean. You need to. It’s not healthy to do this.”

Dean nodded numbly. "Let’s go do this." Dean mumbled.

Upon entrance to the room, Sam nodded once.

Bobby took off his hat and held it to his chest. With Cas on one side of him and Sam and Bobby on the other, watching themselves burn was oddly bearable. Maybe it was because of his talk with Castiel, or maybe it was the fact that so many of the people that he’s been emotionally attached to have died.

Now that he thinks about it, anyone he’s ever cared about has died. Sammy has, but he brought him back, thankfully. The only person who hasn’t died has been Bobby. Lucky dick.

After the burning, they all said a few words. All being Sam. And Bobby grunting his agreement. The older man was much too used to death now, with first Karen then John but the list goes on and on.

Dean went back to his room, where he has been since.

Castiel came in and sat next to him, looking out the window thoughtfully. “Dean,” he began. “If you ever need help…” He struggled to think of what to say to him. ” I will be a call away, and I will try to come as soon as I can.” 

Dean looked up at him through his eyelashes, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nodded and in the blink of an eye he was gone.

Dean sighed heavily and laid back. He thought about Jo. She had so much fucking courage. She was so brave. Why the fuck did he have to use the past tense? All of this was wrong.

Dean lifted up his pillow. He grabbed the photo of them all. Bobby might’ve been old fashioned, but he wasn’t behind in terms of technology. His house DID have a copy machine.

So there lie Dean Winchester, clutching a stupid photo to his chest. 

He might've let a sob out, but that would be the last time he’d cry for a while. 

Until the end of it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, the cruel irony of Bobby 'not having died yet'. Ha. That hurt.


End file.
